


River Stones and Broken Bones Scattered Upon the Hill

by larienelengasse



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fourth Age, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Post War of the Ring, implied prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-12-21 21:58:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/905418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larienelengasse/pseuds/larienelengasse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doing his last duty to his friend Aragorn before he sails West, Legolas joins Elladan and Elrohir on a mission to the kingdom of Harad. Along the way, he makes a new acquaintance and his life turns out quite different than he expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Assignment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IgnobleBard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IgnobleBard/gifts).



Fourth Age, Minas Tirith, Gondor.

Legolas was surrounded by men, as he so often was those days. Most of his kin had sailed to the Undying Lands. It was not that he disliked the company of men – he had grown used to their brashness and bombast – but he missed his woodland home; he missed his father in particular. 

He now dwelled with some of his Silvan kin in Ithilien helping the great forest heal and cleanse itself of Sauron’s poison. Their lives had been transformed from a state of vigilance and constant battle in Mirkwood to one of peace and harmony with Eru’s creations in their new home. Indeed, the Fall of Sauron had even brought peace in his father’s kingdom. Even the Morgul Vale began to heal, but Legolas suspected that it would be many, many years before that abused stretch of ground shed the darkness that had so permeated it. 

He shrugged slightly. It was the first time in years that he had worn his bow and quiver. Despite the fact that bear and true wolves had returned to the forests to hunt, Eru’s creations recognized the special place of elves and did not do them any harm. For other than target practice, Legolas had not used his bow in one hundred years, and the knives his father had made for him were only unsheathed for polishing now that the last of Sauron’s hoard had been defeated. As he wore them both now, it felt strange; yet, it also brought him a sense of comfort. They felt familiar and reminded him of days long past.

As time passed, Legolas’s people left as they each completed their work; one by one they succumbed to the call of the sea. Only a few remained behind, hoping to heal some of the deeper wounds to these lands. His father also remained in the north of the Great Wood with his people, but their numbers were growing few as well. Soon there would be no elves left in Middle Earth. In truth, Legolas was waiting for only one thing. While he rued that thing coming to pass, he also looked forward to his own journey West.

His gaze was fixed on Aragorn, but the gaze of those in Elessar’s court were fixed on him. No matter how many times he traveled here and visited his dear friend, the people of Gondor always regarded him as some sort of magical creature despite the fact that he wasn’t the only elf to walk the halls of the King or the streets of the city. Their own Queen was an Elf, as were her brothers who dwelled there. In the beginning, it was uncomfortable to have the intense attention of those in the White City, and he had often wondered why he in particular garnered so much attention. Indeed, he was almost revered, and that most definitely made him uncomfortable. It was true that he was a prince by birth, but he never felt like one. He was a soldier, a member of the Fellowship, no more. He supposed he had inherited this deep sense of humility from his father. Thranduil, despite the guise he presented to outsiders, also always felt undeserving of the title to which he had born.

As Legolas looked at his old friend sitting upon his throne he couldn’t help but think of how their Fellowship grew smaller and smaller. Frodo had sailed long ago, and despite the grace of the Undying Lands, Legolas imagined he had passed on to wherever his fëa would go when his body finally failed him. Hobbits were mortal, after all. The others, Sam, Merry, and Pippen were all gone – passed on to their final resting places and buried in their beloved Shire, except for Sam, who had also been granted passage into the West. They all left children behind, and the one comfort Legolas felt was knowing that their children, and their children’s children would live in peace. That was the gift that their father’s had given them, what they had fought and suffered for. Now, only he, Aragorn, and his dear friend Gimli were left; and Gimli was beginning to succumb to the relentless march of time. 

Though Legolas wished he could ignore it, Aragorn was also nearing the end of his days. Legolas could feel it. In addition to his undying loyalty and sworn friendship, Legolas felt a deep connection to Aragorn. It was uncommon for an elf to bond with a human in such a way. Perhaps it was all they had been through together. Perhaps it was that Aragorn was no ordinary human. In the end, he supposed the reason did not matter. Aragorn’s passing would be too difficult for him to bear in Middle Earth. Only the peace of the Undying Lands would soothe that ache.

Aragorn’s dark hair was graying, his tanned skin showed the marks of time and weather and hardship. Despite this, his friend was still tall and regal. He was no bent and broken man – he had never been, even during the worst times. He sat tall upon his hard-won throne, his Queen at his left side. The Evenstar was as beautiful as she had ever been, her elven blood keeping her visage eternally youthful though Legolas could see that she too felt the end coming – there was a quiet sadness in her eyes, a type of resolution and acceptance that it would all soon end. He knew that when Aragorn finally laid down his life, she would pass not long after. 

On Aragorn’s right was his son Eldarion. He had the strength of his father and the beauty of his mother. Legolas smiled a little as he imagined the long line of hopeful young women this handsome young prince must have waiting for him, as he was yet to take a bride. 

Elladan and Elrohir were also there, standing to the side of the dais. Elladan bowed his head to him and Legolas returned the gesture. Elrohir threw him a wink, and Legolas smiled and ducked his head to cover his amusement.

He had come at the request of the King, and now he waited to hear what Aragorn would ask of him.

Aragorn smiled and rose from his seat, descending the dais and approaching him. Legolas kneeled and bowed his head. “My lord.”

Aragorn placed his hand upon Legolas’ shoulder. “Rise friend. How long has it been?”

Legolas stood. “One year by my count.”

“And how is the fairest forest in all of Middle Earth?”

“Well, my lord. The birds and beasts return. All things are in balance and as they should be, though the Morgul Vale is still sick. I hope that in time it too will recover. Those few left of my kind have not given up trying to help it.”

Aragorn smiled and offered a small nod of thanks. “I am pleased to hear it. Come. Walk with me, friend.”

Legolas followed Aragorn from the throne room and out into the warm summer sun. It was a beautiful day. Anor shown bright in the sky, the air smelled of salt air and baking breads and roasting meats from the markets below them. Birds twittered and dove and turned on warm summer drafts that came down from the mountains. The song of the gulls that soared high overhead caused a pang deep inside that he silenced. As they walked toward the White Tree, Legolas smiled to see it in full bloom. Butterflies fluttered here and there and now and again a squirrel or two would race up or down its trunk. This courtyard above all was his favorite spot in the city. It was a little oasis of green and living things in a land of white stone.

“Tell me, do I have something on my face?” Legolas asked, now that he could speak informally with his friend.

Aragorn smiled and frowned with confusion at the same time. “What, besides your nose?”

“Your people always stare at me as if I had grown a second one.”

Aragorn laughed. “They stare because you are an elf.”

“So are your beauteous queen and her rakish brothers.”

“Yes, but you are a fair elf,” Aragorn said. “I know you do not see it, but you have a light from within that is brighter than even that of Arwen or her brothers. To put it inelegantly, you glow, Legolas. I suspect it is the blood of your father’s lineage given that it is of the First Born.”

Legolas looked down at himself and shook his head. “I do not see it.”

Aragorn smiled and looked out across the courtyard. “You never have, though those who love and follow you do.” He turned to face his friend. “I have one last thing to ask of you.”

Legolas looked into his friend’s eyes. “And I shall do it.”

“You have not yet heard what it is.”

“It does not matter. We are friends. As your friend, I shall do anything you ask. As you would do for me.”

Aragorn smiled and placed his hand on Legolas’ shoulder and Legolas returned the gesture. “Hannon le,” the king said quietly.

Legolas smiled and bowed his head. “Now, what shall I do for you?”

Aragorn sighed. “My rule grows near its end. You must sense it.”

“I do.”

“Soon, I know not when, exactly, I will lie down for the eternal rest. I will do so before my body gives out. I would have my beloved and my son remember me as a strong man, not a feeble one. I would also see the peace that you and I helped forge continue well into my son’s rule.”

“It is the final gift you give him.”

Aragorn smiled and nodded, then turned away, briefly closing his eyes as he thought of leaving all he had built behind.

“Are you afraid? Of what comes after?”

“I do not know. I suppose I am in small part. But come it will and thus there is no sense in being afraid.” 

“I understand.”

Aragorn took a deep breath and turned back to face Legolas. “I would have you ride to Harad with Elladan and Elrohir. As you know, I have received many emissaries from the peoples of Harad suing for peace. Yet, there are other factions that continue hostile actions with my people. Umbar has submitted to my rule, but brigands remain and harass the cities and dwellings along the River Poros. While they are small in number, their attacks are well coordinated. The garrison at Tir Ethraid was routed for a short time as well. I had to send reinforcements, but it was reclaimed. These goings on bode ill for the future peace.”

“You believe that this is the beginning of a full scale uprising.”

“I do.”

“Then why do you not send your forces south and end it?”

“The source is yet unclear. It is what I would have you discover. I will not ride in aggression against a realm that has, formally at least, submitted to my rule. I will not start a civil war unless I have no other choice. I want to be sure that this is not just a band of common criminals.”

“And what do your advisers say?”

“They are also reluctant to start a war. They would rather ignore the problem and rest in the luxury and comfort that peace has brought to our city. They have long forgotten how to be vigilant.”

Legolas nodded. “It is prudent to be so.” He was silent for a moment, regarding the look in Aragorn’s eye. He could see that his friend wanted to travel with him, to take up his sword and be the Ranger once more. But Aragorn could never again be that man. 

Legolas stepped close “We must have a reason for travelling south. Clearly, I cannot pass for a human and my presence will attract attention.”

“You will act as my emissary. Elladan and Elrohir will be your escorts. See what you can ascertain while you walk amongst the people. Do not hide who you are. Let them see the Legolas Greenleaf who fought on the Fields of Pelennor and Dagorlath. Let you be a reminder of what came before, that you stood against the Dark Lord and did not falter. Be the Legolas of those days – fierce, deadly, and unafraid. These marauders hate my people, as well as your folk. Elladan and Elrohir have witnessed it.”

Aragorn looked out over the Fields of Pelennor from where they stood near the Court of the Fountain. The summer markets were bustling with his people, and even from this great height, he could hear the sounds of music and laughter of children. His eyes narrowed in determination. “If there is an uprising brewing, the presence of one who slew many of their kind may be the spark that lights the fire. Or, if we are fortunate, perhaps they will remember their losses despite Sauron’s support, and seeing you, knowing what you did in the face of seemingly insurmountable evil, they will retreat and leave those who wish peace in the cities alone. If not, we will crush this uprising before it can take to horse and ship.”

Legolas stepped forward to stand next to Aragorn. “Better to spark it then let it smolder and grow in secret,” he said quietly.

Aragorn nodded and smiled. “You know my mind. If it comes, we are ready. The forces of Gondor, despite the long peace, are stronger than they have ever been. We defeated Sauron. We will not suffer these black-hearted men.”

“If I find the source, I will put it out myself, Aragorn.”

“I will not have you risk your life in such a way. We know not how many are involved, how well they are armed—”

“Would not less blood be shed if we struck immediately and cut out the root before the poison can spread? Would it not be easier for three of us to call out their ranks, find the leader, and kill him? These men have no loyalty beyond that that promises them the greatest gain and comfort. If their leader is dead, and the lesson is delivered that none of them are beyond your reach, will they not retreat to their brothels and wine? They know nothing of valor. And this will prevent the needless shed of innocent blood. The cities are also filled with innocent women, children, men who work hard and do hold an allegiance to you. Would you not see them spared open war?”

Aragorn sighed and regarded the tips of his boots for a moment. “It was easier when our enemy were orcs and goblins.”

Legolas smiled. “Aye. It was.”

“Even those men that rode onto the Fields of Pelennor knew what they were doing.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. Who knows how many were forced into servitude, were deceived, who knew not what they were really doing, who they were really serving.”

“You are wise for one so young,” Aragorn said with a smile.

“I am older than you,” Legolas said with a smirk.

“In Elf years, yes,” Aragorn replied.

Legolas grinned broadly. “Alright, when do we do this?”

“I would have you ride out as soon as you have had time to consult with Elladan and Elrohir and formulate a plan.”

“Shall we plan over dinner this evening?”

“Yes,” Aragorn answered. “Come to my private dining hall at the 7th bell past midday. Elladan and Elrohir will be there as well as Eldarion. It is prudent that my son know what we may be facing.”

“I shall be there.”

“I wish I could go with you,” Aragorn said.

“I know. I wish it as well, but you have a greater responsibility now, my friend.”

“Indeed. Speaking of such, I must return to it. I have many people to meet with before the day is done.”

“Such is the burden of being King,” Legolas said with a gentle smile. “My father has complained of it often enough.”

Aragorn smiled and clasped Legolas’ shoulder. “I am in your debt, my friend.”

Legolas smiled. “And I will not forget it.”

Aragorn turned and walked away, leaving Legolas beneath the bows of the White Tree.

* * * * *

Legolas settled into what would be his quarters until he departed for Harad. He laid his knives on the bed and looked at them. It had been many, many years since those blades had tasted blood. As he thought of the Haradrim, he remembered their huge Mûmakils and the crazed look in the eyes of those who drove the poor beasts on. Many had died that day, their number beyond count. Not the least among them was Théoden. That war was always present in his mind. To him, it felt as if it were only yesterday. The sights and sounds of Pelennor and Dagorlad often crept into still moments, and there were moments when he first woke from sleep that he believed that Sauron was still a threat. When these moments occurred, he always thought of how it made him understand his father so much more. 

But Sauron had been destroyed, his dark spirit banished from Middle Earth. The threat now came from men with darkness in their hearts. Legolas realized that the Fall of Sauron did not bring the end of evil; it only made the threat less immediate. There would always be darkness. There could be no good without evil.

“What does our friend contemplate?”

Legolas turned to find Elladan and Elrohir standing in his open doorway holding two flagons of wine and three glasses.

“Too much that I am helpless to change.”

“Then it is time to think of something else,” Elladan said, entering with his twin.

“Yes. It is.” Legolas stepped forward and embraced them both, first Elladan then Elrohir. “How fare my most roguish friends?”

Elrohir laughed and Elladan shook his head.

“It is Elrohir that is the rogue,” Elladan protested. “I merely encounter trouble when rescuing him. It is guilt by association.”

“I never need rescue,” Elrohir grumbled. “Do not try to hide your own love of trouble by blaming me for it all.”

“Good to see that you two have not changed,” Legolas said as he invited them to sit with him near the window.

“We are glad to accompany you on this mission,” Elladan said. 

“We have promised Elessar that no harm will come to you, and we intend to keep the promise,” Elrohir added.

“While I am grateful to have your company, I assure you, I am quite capable of defending myself.”

“No doubt,” Elladan replied. “We remember you in action, after all.”

“If you can handle a Mûmakil with regiment of Haradrim on its back on your own, this should be easy,” Elrohir said. He looked at his twin. “And you claim me to be the show off.”

Legolas grinned. “I was merely trying to be efficient.”

Elladan smirked. “Indeed.”

Legolas took a seat as Elladan poured the ruby red liquid into a crystal glass. “Whom do you miss most?” Elladan asked quietly.

Legolas was silent for a moment, and then answered, “Gandalf. I look forward to seeing him again in Aman.”

Elrohir nodded as he accepted the glass from his brother. “I miss our father, and Glorfindel.”

“I miss Father as well,” Elladan said. “I also miss Erestor and Lindir.”

“Ah yes,” Legolas answered. “He has a rare voice that I also miss. Your homecoming will be rich. You will be reunited with your parents, the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, and all those whom you love that have sailed.” He paused for a moment and carefully regarded the twins. “You will sail, will you not?”

“We have yet to decide,” Elladan replied. “There is still time.”

“At the least, we will stay to our sister’s end and to see her son crowned and his rule established,” Elrohir added.

“It is a strange time. There is so much to look forward to, but it is tinged with sadness of the losses we are soon to suffer.” Legolas sighed. “I know not whether to feel joy or sorrow.”

Elladan raised his glass in a toast. “Perhaps you should feel both at the same time.”

“Without sadness, joy would mean nothing,” Legolas answered.

“No dark without light, no good without evil, no life without death,” Elrohir mused as he touched his glass to that of Legolas and Elladan.

“Enough of this melancholy,” Legolas said. “Let us appreciate what we have now. I suggest we take our wine outside and watch Anor cross beyond the horizon and Ithil grace these wide open skies.”

“I concur,” Elladan said rising to his feet. “and while we do, you can explain to us both how you have avoided a mate for so long.”

“Oh, you two are one to talk,” Legolas chided. “I see neither of you with a mate.”

Elrohir grabbed one bottle of wine as Elladan grabbed the other. “Now that you mention it, we have been meaning to speak with you about that.”

Legolas cast a confused glance over his shoulder as the twins followed him from his room.


	2. The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Twins, Legolas, and Aragorn formulate their plan.

Legolas smiled and clapped his hands along with the music. The Twin Sons of Elrond had talked him into visiting their favorite tavern in the city and now he leaned against the long wooden bar watching Elladan and Elrohir twirl two of the loveliest bar maids he had ever seen in circles on the dance floor. The young ladies laughed and pirouetted, their delicate hands brushing the velvet clad arms of their partners. He could see why they hesitated to make their choice. The one thing that Legolas had grown to appreciate about the human race was their ability to live life in the present. To dance and sing and drink and eat as if it were the last time they ever would do such. Compared to his own kind, who knew the long march of time in a way that humans never could, they seemed so innocent, like children in their joy. They were so . . . alive. 

He felt a soft touch upon his arm and for a moment he thought he gazed upon the Shield Maiden of Rohan. Éowyn had died a few years prior and this lovely young woman that stood before him couldn’t be more than twenty years of age.

“Would you care to dance, my lord?” She asked softly.

Legolas smiled and nodded, taking her slender hand and guiding her to the dance floor. As he guided her around the more raucous dancers, he looked into her blue eyes that were so full of life and joy. Yes, he thought to himself. It had all been worth it.

Hours passed and the three friends danced and drank and laughed. The men in the bar could never get used to how much drink elves could consume and show no signs of drunkenness. As Legolas, Elladan and Elrohir took their leave of the still reveling humans in the tavern, they made their way back toward the Citadel and their fateful meeting with the King.

Legolas paused for a moment in the street and looked up at Elladan and Elrohir, who had turned to look back at their friend. “I feel…” he stopped and shook his head. 

“Are you drunk?” Elrohir asked.

Legolas frowned. “No. Of course not.”

“Then what is it?”

“You . . . two . . . are lovers?” he asked so quietly that no human ears could hear him.

Elladan nodded. “Aye. Does this disturb you?”

“No,” Legolas answered without hesitation. “I just wonder why you have kept it from me for so long. I suppose, I should have known. It does seem quite natural.”

Elrohir started to respond and Legolas waved him off. “It is joyous news that you love each other so deeply. This is cause for celebration, not shame. But I do understand that not all will see it as such. I will keep your confidence.”

Elladan smiled. “Of all, we knew you would see it that way.” He held out his hand. “Come, my tardy friend. Do keep up or we will be late for dinner with the King.”

Legolas grinned and then sprinted past them. “Let us see who arrives first!” he called over his shoulder.

“Always the competitor,” Elrohir said with a smile, then he and Elladan took off in earnest after their light-footed Sindarin friend, their blue cloaks billowing out behind them.

* * * *

“I think the most efficient means is to openly bait this man who spurs these brigands on. Draw him out. There is no subterfuge that we can concoct that they will believe. They will never believe us to have motives in common with them,” Legolas said, sitting forward in his chair.

“We shall attract attention, no doubt,” Elladan said. “Here, in the White City, we move freely and no doubt the eyes of many are upon us as we do.”

“Yet, there is no malice toward our kind here,” Elrohir interjected. “In Harad…”

“There are those that favor our presence,” Elladan joined, “but there are also many that view us with suspicion and outright hatred.”

“They blame our kind for their subjugation, because of our allegiance with Aragorn,” Legolas said.

“They will blame you in particular,” Aragorn answered. 

Elladan reached out and plucked a ripe golden pear from a platter in the center of the table, efficiently carving out a slice with his knife. “Many years have passed since the War of the Ring, but they have not forgotten you, King Elessar’s closest friend and ally. The one who was at his side throughout the war. There are those who are happy for peace, people who suffered under the dark rule of those who allied with Sauron—”

“And there are those who have heard tales from their fathers and grandfathers of the Ranger, the Elf and the Dwarf who fought with the Army of the Dead and killed their kin on the Fields of Pelennor,” Elrohir finished.

“They will want my head,” Legolas said.

Elladan nodded resolutely. “Aye.”

“But we shall not let them have it,” Elrohir said. “Not without a fight, at least.”

Legolas smiled as he gazed at Aragorn. “So, I am walking into the lion’s den, as it were.”

“Basically,” Aragorn answered.

Legolas sat back and crossed his legs. “Well, I am due for some excitement.”

Elrohir smiled. “And you shall have it, my friend.”

Legolas smiled back at the peredhel. “Will you not have excitement as well? Do these men not know of your deeds with the Rangers of the North? I do recall your blades drank of their forefather’s blood as well.”

“True,” Elladan said. “While they bear us no love, we were more . . . how shall I put it, Elrohir?”

“Discreet?” Elrohir answered.

“Yes. Discreet.”

Legolas laughed. “Ho! Discreet? You two? Hardly.”

“Well,” Elladan said with a mischievous smile, “one does attract a certain kind of attention when killing a Mûmakil and thirty Haradrim in one fell swoop.”

Legolas threw up his hands. “This again. I did explain that—”

“You were being efficient,” Aragorn interjected with a grin.

“Most flamboyantly efficient, I think,” Elrohir said.

“It worked, did it not? Did they not flee the field of battle?” Legolas said a broad grin on his face.

“Indeed. It was impressive,” Aragorn said with a smile. “But perhaps the Army of the Dead had a hand in that as well.”

Legolas shrugged. “Well, if you are going to split hairs, I suppose you are right.”

The four friends laughed then grew quiet as memories of that war entered all of their minds.

Legolas sighed. “Well, when shall we depart? The sooner the better, I think.”

Aragorn picked at the food on his plate. “I suppose you are right. I will send word, to your father, of your journey.”

Legolas looked at his friend. “Perhaps it would be best if you did not. If all goes to plan, he will be none the wiser. If not, there is nothing he can do about it. If it does go ill, he will know.”

“He will never forgive me,” Aragorn said softly. “Nor will I forgive myself.”

Legolas fixed his gaze on his oldest friend. “One never knows when one’s end will come, Aragorn. I could have met mine a thousand times over before now, before I met you. Do you forget where I come from? What I have known since I could first draw a bow?”

“No. You know I have nothing but confidence in you, Legolas. You have achieved what few could. You are the bravest, most skilled, most honorable warrior I have ever met. That bravery, that honor, that is the source of your light. I just would not see that light put out. I would see it sail West and shine in peace for the rest of its days.”

Legolas smiled gently at his friend. “And so it shall, but know that I could never sail without knowing that what we all fought for was secure, without knowing that your son and his children will enjoy this peace that all in your city now enjoy.” He leaned forward, placing his hands on the table. “It is time that I fulfill my purpose. I was born to be a warrior; it is my life’s work. There will be little use for my skills in Aman. Let me use them now, before I retire them forever.”

Aragorn nodded and rose from his seat. “Thank you, Legolas.”

“For?”

“For being my friend. For always being there when I needed you. For being here, now.”

Legolas also stood and approached Aragorn, clasping his shoulder and drawing him into an embrace. “I would be nowhere else.”

Legolas and the twins watched the king in silence as he withdrew. 

“This weighs heavy on him,” Elrohir said. “He has always felt ill at ease with his fate.”

“Always torn between his duty and what he wanted to be,” Elladan said quietly.

“There will never be another so good and brave as him,” Legolas said. “I will never know another friendship such as the one we share.”

“Well,” Elladan said sliding his chair back and rising to his feet. “There are preparations to make and, I for one, would like to take full advantage of my comfortable bed and bath. It will be awhile before we enjoy such comforts once we depart.”

“I know your mind, brother,” Elrohir said quietly, “and I share your desires.”

“As do I,” Legolas said. “Let us retire. We will ride out for Harad at first light.”

Elladan squeezed Legolas’ shoulder as he passed. Elrohir embraced his friend.

“We will pass from this world before we see one drop of your blood shed,” he whispered in Legolas’s ear.

“Then we shall pass together, as I feel the same,” Legolas answered, tightening the embrace.

Elrohir clapped Legolas on the shoulder as they parted and he followed his twin from the room, leaving Legolas alone with his thoughts.


	3. The Journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The companions depart Minas Tirith and discover the truth of their mission along the way.

Legolas shrugged his pack onto his shoulder and closed the room of his chamber behind him.

“Sleeping late, I see?”

The gravelly voice caused Legolas’s eyes to brighten and he turned quickly to find Gimli leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his broad chest. He smiled broadly. “You have finally learned stealth.”

Gimli shrugged. “Perhaps I knew it all along and just never found the need for it until now.”

Legolas approached and reached down, placing his hands on his friend’s broad shoulders. “‘Tis good to see you, my friend. When did you arrive?”

“Late last night. Aragorn sent for me a week ago.”

“So you know, then.”

“Aye, and if you think you are going to sneak off and have this wild adventure without me, you are mistaken.”

“Gimli, this will be—”

“Dangerous? Why do you think I’m here? I won’t have you going off and having all the fun without me.”

Legolas knew the stubbornness of his old friend and he nodded in acquiescence. “Well then, I hope you have packed light.”

“I packed my ax. I need nothing else. There are beds and food in Harad.” As they walked down the corridor together he said, “As a matter of fact, I hear their ale is some of the best in the western lands, though I doubt it as fine as any my folk brew.”

Legolas smiled warmly as he walked beside his friend. Gimli’s presence gave him great comfort.

* * * *

Their horses walked the narrow roads through the markets and huts that dotted the Fields of Pelennor. Gimli was balanced behind Legolas – the dwarf never had learned to ride a horse properly. Elladan and Elrohir rode ahead, bedecked in full silver armor and the colors of their house, deep blue cloaks gently lifting on the breeze, embroidered with the emblem of the White Tree. Legolas donned his own battle gear – colors of the forest woven into silk, suede and leather, his bow, quiver and knives strapped to his back. Gimli was also dressed for battle, his tough Dwarven armor making him look even more formidable, despite the grey hairs on his head and his beard. 

Their intentions and presence would be announced long before they entered the kingdom of Harad. This was no mission of secrecy – they were declaring their intentions outright, sending a message to those that would challenge the sovereignty of the King that they would be met openly and crushed.

It was nearing sundown when they reached the inn where they would spend their first night away from the city. There was two more days of riding before them, if they were to conserve their horses. Should things go ill, they may need to make a quick retreat and they needed to know their mounts would be fresh for a long, hard gallop from Tir Ethraid to the safety of the nearest garrison.

As they descended the stairs after unloading their gear in their rooms, Legolas once again felt the sense of discomfort that the open stares of humans caused. While the gaze of those in Minas Tirith was one of reverence, uncomfortable in itself, these men and women looked upon them with open suspicion. While still within the borders of Aragorn’s realm, the small towns were quite different from the White City. They carried no weapons on them as they entered the tavern to find food and drink, and in truth, despite the fact that they were greatly outnumbered, they did not need them. There were some of Aragorn’s soldiers about, and the Twins were well known amongst the king’s ranks. They were greeted by those few with subtle nods of the head as they found a table and sat down.

“Evening, sirs,” the barmaid said as she sat a pitcher of water in the center of the table. “What brings you to our tavern?”

“We are passing through, on our way to Tir Ethraid,” Elladan said, loud enough that any spies might hear.

“We ride on business of his majesty, the king,” Elrohir added.

“And we hear the ale and roast boar in this establishment is most fine,” Gimli said in a blasé tone.

“King’s business?” the raven-haired barmaid asked. 

Legolas looked straight into her dark eyes. All elves had some degree of telepathic ability. Some, like the Lady Galadriel could see straight to one’s soul, read thoughts in their entirety and indeed converse directly with the mind, without words; but few were that powerful. Only Lord Celeborn and his father were left in Middle Earth with that particular skill. For his own part, Legolas could sense whether one’s intentions were good or ill and in some degree, he could influence action. This woman was fishing for information, though she did so under duress. She was afraid, and she tried to hide it.

He reached out and gently laid his hand on her wrist, willing her to lean down so he could whisper in her ear. “Do not be afraid,” he said. “I understand your plight. Tell those that would know it of you that we are coming for them, and they are the ones that should fear.”

“I am sorry, my lord,” she whispered with a trembling voice as she ducked her head in shame. “They know where I live, where my children live and go to school.”

“I understand,” Legolas answered. “We do not hold you at fault.” He cocked his head and cupped her jaw, turning her head so that she once again looked into his eyes. “We will free you from them. That I promise.”

“Thank you,” she whispered as she blinked back tears.

Legolas smiled to reassure her. As she stood upright he said more loudly. “Might we feed my friend the dwarf before he takes it upon himself to raid your kitchen?”

“Yes, my lord,” she said, gathering herself. “Straight away, my lord. And for you?”

“Nothing for me,” Legolas said, scanning the room.

“You do not hunger?”

“Well, perhaps some of that boar, and any vegetables you have.”

“And wine for the table,” Elrohir said, flashing his most charming smile to ease the woman’s jangled nerves.

“Yes, my lord,” she said as she blushed.

“She has children, brother. She most likely has a husband, if he has not met some ill fate. Would you have us engaged in a fight our first night on the road?” Elladan asked.

“I merely smiled, brother. I know not what you mean.”

Legolas smiled and shook his head. “I have missed the both of you.”

Elladan nodded and smiled back. “We are glad to be in your company, old friend.”

They dined and made small talk, all the while watching those who watched them. Gimli swigged his ale and laughed loudly at their jokes, often bringing up their past deeds, particularly Legolas’ slaying of the Mûmakil and their taking of the Corsair’s ships on the way to Minas Tirith; no one in the room mistook who they were. By the time they departed the tavern and made for their beds, word had spread throughout the small village that Legolas Thranduilion, Prince of Greenwood; Gimli Son of Gloin, and the Twin Sons of Elrond were in their midst, and that they were riding for the garrison of Tir Ethraid.

* * * *

Legolas secured his pack onto his horse, stroking the mare’s neck as she finished the last of her hay. Gimli hobbled into the stable and Legolas smiled.

“Your legs have forgotten how to sit a horse.”

Gimli grumbled then replied, “Between that lumpy bed and that infernal beast, I am surprised I can walk at all this morning.”

“Do not listen to him,” Legolas whispered to his mare. “You are among the most noble of all horses.”

“Where did you find her, anyway?” Gimli asked, twisting and cracking his back.

“She found me,” Legolas answered. “She approached me in the northern reaches of Itihilen. She was young and alone, having been separated from her herd. I gave her shelter and safety, and in return she has carried me anywhere I have asked her to go, including the most terrible of places.”

“Where was that?” Gimli asked.

“The Morgul Vale.”

Gimli made a low growling sound down in his throat. “I remember that place. The stench still lives in my nostrils.”

“It is slowly getting better, but it will take some time yet.”

“It is a miracle it has healed at all,” Gimli said. He turned and looked out of the stable doors. “Where are the brothers?”

“They will be with us shortly. Elladan wanted to speak with the captain he saw in the tavern last night.” Legolas turned to look at his friend. “They will know by now that we are coming.”

“I imagine they will,” Gimli answered.

“We may be lucky to enter the city at all, depending upon how many there are that would see us harmed.”

“It is not the worst we’ve faced together. What are a few brigands compared to the hoard of Sauron and Saruman?”

Legolas looked through the dusty windowpane at the bright light outside. “Yes, but we knew our enemy then by sight. This is another matter altogether. We may not know them until it is too late.” He looked at Gimli. “In my experience, men are more terrible than orcs. The darkness in their hearts rivals that of even the Dark Lord himself. Orcs would see us dead, simple enough. Men . . . men like some sport before they kill you. They revel in suffering.”

“Are you afraid?” Gimli asked.

“I would be untruthful if I said I was not, but it will not deter me from what needs be done. Should things go ill, I have the power to escape torture through death. I am most afraid of what they will do to you.” He took a deep breath and sighed. “Nor would I see all that has been sacrificed and lost be for nothing. I would see this hard-won peace endure.”

Gimli put his hand on Legolas’s arm. It was only the second time he had ever seen fear in his friend’s eyes. The first was when they fought on Dagorlad, when Legolas thought he would lose Aragorn to a massive troll.

“You are not afraid to die,” Gimli said quietly. “You are afraid to fail.”

Legolas smiled gently at his friend. “Aye. I am.”

Gimli reached up and grasped Legolas’s arm tightly. “You will not. We will not.”

Legolas nodded and gave Gimli’s shoulder a squeeze.

“Enough of the bonding. We’ve got some criminals to dispatch,” Elladan said without preamble as he entered the barn with Elrohir close behind.

“Their leader is a man named Bora Shir,” Elrohir said. “The best intelligence we have is that he leads a band of thirty men, and has many others that he has either bribed or threatened into providing him with Gondorian troop movements, garrison locations, troop strength and arsenals.”

“He primarily plays upon the political uncertainty and the sympathies of families who lost men during the War of the Ring. He paints the King as a tyrant who is only interested in what their lands can produce.”

“Which is?” Gimli asked. 

“The land of Harondor is mostly agricultural with the exception of a few towns,” Legolas said. “They are a nomadic people, primarily. There are large flocks of cattle and sheep that graze the grass lands, but there are also a few homesteads and farms.”

“They grow grapes for wine and brandy and there are hop fields as well as poppy fields,” Elladan added.

“I understand the value of grapes and hops,” Gimli said. “But what are poppies?”

“They are flowers, from which the stamen can be ground to produce a powerful opiate. Men will often smoke it and lose themselves to its effects,” Legolas replied.

“Baudy houses in the South are rife with it,” Elrohir said. “It makes those who use it submissive and easily controlled.”

“So this Bora Shir is likely using it to keep the people of the cities under his control,” Gimli said.

“Exactly,” Elladan answered. “We have even lost a few warriors to its powerful lure. He would see it spread north and into the lands of all free peoples.”

“Well. He sounds like exactly the sort of man who needs to learn a lesson. A deadly lesson,” Gimli said with determination in his eyes. “Perhaps introducing my ax to his head is in order.”

“Gimli is right,” said Legolas. “We must find him and kill him.”

“He is not the only one,” Elladan said. “We must dispatch his captains and most loyal followers.”

“Cut off the head of the beast and it sprouts a new one,” Elrohir said.

“Then we shall hack the beast into pieces and burn them,” Gimli said.

“I like the way you think, Dwarf,” Elrohr said with a wink. 

“Let us get on with it then,” Elladan said, nimbly mounting his horse and sweeping his cloak from his shoulders. “We have two full days ride ahead of us.”

“Oh,” Gimli grumbled, and Legolas chuckled as he gave his friend a boost up to his mare’s back before mounting in front.


	4. The Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The companions arrive in Tir Ethraid and discover that things are worse than they imagined. They also discover a new ally.

The garrison at Tir Ethraid was not what Legolas expected. While there were some rudimentary walls constructed of wooden poles carved into spikes at the ends, and some soldiers loyal to Aragorn manning the walls, it was by and large a tent city, with a few poorly constructed buildings interspersed amongst the more temporary dwellings. The streets were crowded and dirty; maids dumped chamber pots straight onto the streets. Legolas could smell the sickly-sweet odor of the opium dens long before they passed through the gates. They concealed their horses outside the garrison walls, leaving them with a small regiment of Gondorians for safekeeping, and walked through the city gates. 

Legolas tried to conceal the discomfort that the sights, sounds and smells were causing him. He had seen awful things in his life: terrible, massive spiders; the Balrog; wargs; orcs; uruk-hai; even the Lidless Eye, but somehow this was worse. Never had he seen humans live in such conditions and in such numb despair. Children wore soiled clothes and played in the filthy streets; women solicited them from doorways and windows; and immediately Legolas spotted some of Bora Shir’s men. They followed from the shadows of the crude buildings, not brave enough to come out into the bright light of Anor and reveal themselves.

“We have company,” he said so quietly that only Elladan and Elrohir heard him. He tapped Gimli’s left shoulder and the Dwarf nodded, his keen eyes also spotting their enemy.

“Where in the name of all that is good will we sleep in this pit?” Gimli said.

Just then, a soldier approached and bowed his head. “My lords,” he said in deference.

Elladan stepped forward and surveyed the man. His armor was beginning to rust, his cloak soiled and beard unkempt. “You show no pride in your office,” he chided. 

“Begging your pardon, my lord. This is a difficult place to serve. Often supplies are raided long before they reach us. We struggle to keep order here.”

Elrohir placed his hand on the young soldier’s shoulder. “Those times are coming to an end.”

The young soldier nodded. “We would be grateful, my lord. We have sent for reinforcements, but none come.”

“How have you called for help?” Elladan asked.

“By rider and by pigeon. No answer has come from Minas Tirith. We have begun to fear that the King has abandoned us.”

Elladan clasped both of the young warrior’s shoulders. “King Elessar will never abandon his people. We have received no word.”

Elrohir’s eyes narrowed in anger as he looked directly at the men hiding in the shadows. “They have killed your riders and your winged messengers. They aim to cut you off and turn you to their dark cause.”

Legolas placed his arm on Elrohir’s arm. “There goes a runner,” he said quietly.

“No doubt to warn Bora Shir,” Elrohir replied.

“Well, let’s fix that,” Gimli said, and before anyone could respond the Dwarf threw his ax, landing it square in the man’s back. 

Before the remaining men could step from the shadows, the twins drew their swords and Legolas leveled his bow on the man furthest away. The young soldier also drew his blade and turned. 

“Go, bring us the captain,” Elladan commanded, and the young soldier took off toward the guard tower.

“Ten of them, four of us. Fair odds,” Gimli growled. “Where did we leave the count last?”

Legolas sighed. “Perhaps killing one of them within minutes of arriving might not have been the best plan.”

“We’ve sent a clear message at least,” Elladan said. He shrugged his cloak behind his shoulders, his armor glinting bright silver in the sun, his eyes a dark stormy grey. 

“You know us!” he shouted. “Do you think you will walk away from this unscathed?”

“It is the orc-slayers,” one man whispered to the other. “We must withdraw, come upon them unawares if we are to dispatch them.”

The other man nodded and the band withdrew, leaving Legolas and his companions alone.

Gimli wrenched his ax from the dead man’s back and wiped it on the back of the man’s shirt.

“You dwarves know nothing of the subtler arts,” a voice said from the shadows. 

Gimli growled and hoisted his ax again, and Legolas was at his side in moments. 

“Who speaks from the shadows?” Legolas asked. “Come forward. Show yourself if you are not a coward.”

“I have been called many things, Legolas Thranduilion, but never a coward.”

Legolas narrowed his eyes as a tall, hooded and cloaked figure moved into the light. The colors he wore were deep green and gold, and Legolas knew him as an elf as soon as he could see a slip of his skin from beneath the cloak.

“How do you know my name?”

The figure slid his cloak back, revealing pale hair the color of summer wheat and glimmering blue eyes. “I know your father. I am Gildor Inglorion, from the house of Finrod Felagund.” Gildor cocked his head. “Though we have never met, I see much of your father in you. And, whom that has lived long enough would not recognize you? Tales of your deeds have traveled to the farthest reaches of Middle Earth.”

Elladan bowed his head in deference. “My lord, Gildor. What brings you here?”

“I too know of the troubles in this land, Elladan, son of Elrond. I came to see for myself if the rumors are true.”

“Where did you hear these rumors?” Elrohir asked.

“I was in Dol Amroth, preparing to travel north to the Grey Havens when I first heard rumor that there may be an uprising in the south.”

“And you came alone?” Legolas asked.

“I did.” Gildor answered.

“Is it not dangerous for one such as yourself to come to such a place?”

“I assure you, I am in far less danger than you, Legolas. I came to trade.” He leaned forward and spoke quietly. “Or at least that is what everyone in this city believes. Of you, however, everyone in this city knows why you have come.” Gildor glanced around. “Come. I know of a place that is yet safe here.”

Elrohir turned when he heard the captain of the guard and two more warriors approaching. “Go. I will find you.”

Gildor smiled. “No, you will not. But I will find you.”

Elladan shook his head. “I go nowhere without you, Elrohr.” He looked at Legolas. “Go with Gildor. You can trust him. He will bring us to you soon.”

Legolas reluctantly left the twins behind and followed Gildor away from the crowded streets with Gimli close behind him.

“What is this place?” Legolas asked as he brushed aside a thin curtain of fabric, revealing a room carved out of a tall hill, the roof held up by columns. The place had apparently been deserted long ago, despite the fact that it stood just outside of the city.

“It is Haudh in Gwanûr. The final resting place of the twin sons of King Folcwine of Rohan. They died here aiding Gondor in its war against the Haradrim. Their bodies have been entombed here since the Third Age. The Haradrim believe that to enter this tomb would invoke the ghost lords – the spirits of those who died here – and that they would seek bloody revenge. So, in their superstition, they avoid this place.”

“It is why it is the only place within fifty miles that does not reek of decay,” Gimli said. “They have not defiled this place the way they have defiled their city.”

Gildor looked over his shoulder at Legolas. “You are safe here.”

Legolas set his bow and quiver down. “What do you know of Bora Shir?”

“He is a powerful and evil man,” Gildor said, removing his cloak and draping it across one of the sarcophaguses. “He is responsible for all you see in Tir Ethraid.” He turned to look at Legolas. “He is dangerous. He will see all of Gondor slave to the pipe and bottle. His greatest wish is to see the realm destroyed. He has harbored hatred of all free peoples since he was but a child. His grandfather rode to war with the Dark Lord and never came home. It is for this reason that he hates Elessar especially.”

He sat down and invited Legolas and Gimli to do the same. “He has known you were coming as his spies delivered word. When he learns you are now here, one who has slain so many of his kin, he will want to make you suffer – make you an example.”

“Yes, I have heard such warnings. He will have my head on a pike if he can get it.”

“More likely, he will use you to barter with. Take you as hostage and demand the withdrawal of all troops from this place. Then, he’ll return you to Elessar ruined and broken. He is willing to risk the wrath of the king in order to inflict the greatest pain on him. He believes that seeing you, who was once strong and beautiful, abused and broken will break the king’s spirit.” 

“Then he knows Elessar not at all. It would only awaken the warrior that still lives inside him.”

Gildor sighed. “This is the last place in all of Middle Earth that you should have come, Legolas. But, I will do my best to help you and your friends.”

“Why would you involve yourself in such a dangerous venture? You said you were on your way to the Grey Havens, and you are alone. Your people sailed without you, did they not?”

“They did.”

“You have wandered for so long, and now, practically on the eve of your long awaited journey home, you have come here. Why?”

“I told you that I came to see if the rumors were true.”

Legolas cocked his head slightly and gazed at Gildor with narrowed eyes. “You walked away from the ship that was to carry you home at long last to satisfy your curiosity?”

“I suppose I have a bit of the spirit of a cat.”

“Let’s hope you have some of their lives as well,” Gimli chimed in. “This will get bloody before the end.”

Gildor looked at the dwarf. “Though it has been many years since I was a warrior, I have seen my share of blood and death.”

“You were a warrior?” Legolas asked.

“I have seen war, though long ago. I have not fought since the Second Age. When Nargothrond was destroyed I, and those who survived, sought refuge in Doriath. Lord Thingol took us in and that was where I met your grandfather and father. When Doriath fell, I followed your kin to the Great Wood. I served under Oropher during the Last Alliance and fought beside your father on Dagorlad. We mourned the loss of your grandfather together, and were friends for many years.” Gildor looked thoughtfully at Legolas. “Though it has been too long since I have seen him last, and I have often felt deep sorrow for the losses he has had to endure.”

Legolas regarded the Noldo thoughtfully. He had heard stories of Gildor since he was an elfling, but he could not recall ever seeing him, even when he had been young. He remembered how those who spoke of Gildor described him – they called him a ghost, a shadow, an elf that could move unseen, even through a land ruled by a king as vigilant as Thranduil. Some called him a spy. His father never spoke of Gildor, and Legolas wondered why, since Gildor called Thranduil friend.

He did not sense dishonesty in Gildor. Indeed, he believed he spoke true. The question was: why, if they were friends, did his father never speak of him?

“I see what is in your mind, Legolas. I am afraid that your father does not regard me as I regard him.”

“Why? What have you done?”

“He sought the aid of the Galadhrim when the darkness first began to drive your people from the southern reaches of the Great Wood. He asked me to deliver his plight to the Lord and Lady of Lórien. They were unable to risk so many of their warriors to fight the darkness that spread from Dol Guldur. They commanded me to remain in Lórien, so I did not return to deliver the news to your father. I am afraid he saw it as an abandonment of our friendship. It pained me to remain in Lórien; indeed, I never ventured east of the Golden Wood again. I remained west of the Mountains, performing errantry for Lord Elrond by command of the Lady Galadriel.”

“Why would the Lord and Lady do that? Why would they command you to abandon my father?”

Gildor shook his head. “I know not.” He closed his eyes. “I have missed him many times over the years. Indeed, I sent word, seeking audience with him so that I could explain, but he never answered. He closed his heart to me and I have wandered ever since. It is a wrong I would right, if he gave me the chance.”

Legolas signaled to Gimli to give them some privacy, and the dwarf obliged. He turned to Gildor. “You loved him.”

“Yes, in my own way. He was a dear friend, one I would have died for. Perhaps, had we more time, we might have become more, but I was forced to remain absent and then he met your mother, fell in love, and you were born. And I had to face that I would never know what we could have been, and therefore, I have long ago abandoned that possibility.”

“If you loved him as you say you did, how could you stay away? How could anything keep you from fighting at his side?”

“The Lady Galadriel is my kin, Legolas. She is my family, and I have little left. So many fell when I was so young. She was the only survivor of all my cousins.”

Legolas sighed and nodded. “I understand. Family is important.”

“What would you do, if your father’s wishes countermanded your own desires?”

“I would obey and serve him.”

“Then you understand.”

Legolas nodded. “I do.” He looked at Gildor thoughtfully. “Do you still love him?”

Gildor smiled gently. “As a brother and a friend, but no more than that.”

“I hope you will be a friend to me as well, Gildor.”

“I will defend you with my life.”

“Let us hope it does not come to that.”

Gildor smiled. “Agreed.” He placed his hand on Legolas’ shoulder. “Stay here, you will be safe. I will go seek the Sons of Elrond and bring them here.”

Legolas nodded then watched Gildor depart into the waning daylight.


	5. The Eve of Conflict

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The companions learn more of each other; Legolas and Gildor form a bond.

“Well? Can we trust him?” Gimli asked his friend.

“Yes.” Legolas said.

“He was not there for your father.”

“He could not help it.” Legolas looked at Gimli. “You must understand. You know what it is like to watch so many you love fall.”

“Aye. I do.”

“We are different in many ways, we Elves and Dwarves; but we are alike in the love and loyalty we show to our friends and family.”

Gimli nodded. “Why do you think she did it? The Lady? She did not turn us away nor fail to give us aid.”

“I do not know,” Legolas answered. “But she must have had a compelling reason.”

“Your father failed to aid Thrain’s people. You were there. Did he have a compelling reason?”

Legolas looked at Gimli. It was the first time they had spoken of it in all the years of their friendship. “Yes. Our people were few, Gimli. Defending our own from the near constant onslaught of orcs and spiders required the constant vigilance of all of our warriors. We could not risk the loss numbers the likes of which would be required to defeat a dragon.”

“Was that the only reason?” Gimli asked, his gaze focused on his friend. “You know I do not hold you at fault, Laddy. You and I, we set that quarrel aside long ago. But, I lost many of my kin when Erebor fell, and I lost more still trying to reclaim it. Your father left us to our fate once, and then rode in aggression against us once we reclaimed the kingdom. I find it strange that you and I are friends when he hates our kind so deeply.”

“He had quarrel, this is true. But when the orcs came, he fought beside the Dwarves. His mistrust comes from the betrayal of the King of Doriath. You know the history as well as I. It was Dwarves that sparked that fateful chain of events. How many did your kind lose when Erebor fell? One hundred? Two hundred? Thousands of Thingol’s people fell, and my father and grandfather witnessed it all. My father was just an elfling, but he never forgot it. He has sense harbored mistrust of both Dwarves and the Noldor. Though, he has come closer to forgiving our own kind.”

Gimli nodded. “I understand. Loss can either make us better or worse, or sometimes both at the same time.”

“He would like you,” Legolas said. “While he does not understand our friendship, he respects that you have fought so loyally by my side. He also understands the bond of friendship that is formed in battle.”

“I have always found your father to be most intimidating, though I have not met him.”

Legolas smiled. “He can be. He can also be gentle, loving, kind, and he has a most wicked sense of humor.”

“Like father like son.”

“I know not what you mean,” Legolas said with a gentle smile.

“Of course not,” Gimili said, smiling in return. “Do you think the ghost will return with food?”

“You speak of ghosts in a tomb, Gimli. Do you not fear to wake the spirits of the Horselords that lay here?”

“Right. No ghosts.”

“Let us rest. We will need it in the days to come.”

“I will try, but my stomach complains.”

“I have lembas.”

“Ah, never mind,” Gimli said leaning back against a rock and closing his eyes.

* * * *

Gildor returned with Elladan and Elrohir. Elrohir smiled as they entered the tomb.

“This is perfect,” he said. “They will not set foot inside this place.”

“Nor will they even approach it,” Elladan added. “They are an ignorant, superstitious lot these Haradhrim.”

“Did you bring food?” Gimli asked.

Elladan tossed a pack filled with cured meats, cheeses, bread and fruit to Gimli.

“What about—” the dwarf grunted as he caught the flagon of wine. He grinned at Elrohir. “I like you two.”

Elrohir winked and Elladan shook his head. “No fire, no smoke,” Elladan said to Gimli.

Gimli nodded and prepared the spread for all of them.

“Well?” Legolas asked. “What have you learned?”

“Bora Shir is well entrenched here. He holds up in a large house that sits high on the cliff above the city,” Elladan responded.

“I saw it when we entered,” Legolas said.

“He has one hundred men that appear to be as black-hearted as he is. There are another fifty or so that appear to serve him out of fear for their families and themselves,” Elrohir added.

Gildor asked, “What do you plan to do?”

“Cut off the head,” Legolas said.

“And when others step in to take his place?” 

“Kill them all,” Elrohir said. “Preferably in short order.”

“The four of you are to kill one hundred armed criminals?” Gildor queried with one raised eyebrow.

“More or less,” Elladan answered. “Though we can count on the assistance of the captain and his guard, so that adds another fifty or so men on our side.”

“I hope they are fit. The state of the troops in this city is poor. How do you know there is not a betrayer in their ranks, one that will warn this Bora Shir you are coming?” asked Gildor.

“Oh, he knows,” Legolas answered. “He knows we are coming and he knows why. I made sure of that two days ago.”

“So, this is not a secret mission, then.”

Legolas looked at Gildor. “No. This is not your fight, Gildor. You need not become involved. Perhaps you should travel to the Havens, board the ship that awaits you.”

“Though it has been many years, I remember how to wield a sword.”

“Are you even armed?” Gimli asked. 

Gildor reached behind a stone and removed a wrapped package. Elvish steel glittered even in the dimly lit tomb. 

“It is old,” Elladan said, approaching the weapon with reverence.

“As one trained in the arts of metal work, you must recognize its origins,” Gildor said.

“Was this made by the Gwaith-i-Mírdain?” Elladan asked. “May I?”

Gildor handed it to Elladan. “It is older than that. It was made by Celebrimbor, in Nargothrond, before the city fell.”

Elladan stepped back and tested the sword. A smile curved Elladan’s lips. “It is most fine. Exceptional balance, sturdy, yet light.”

“How came you by it?” Elrohir asked, accepting the sword from Elladan.

“I rescued it as we fled the city. I have carried it ever since, as I am the last surviving member of my house.” Gildor accepted it back from Elrohir. “Its last deed was to cleave the head of a troll that attempted to kill my friend.” Gildor cast a sideways glance at Legolas. “It has slept ever since.”

“I am glad you carry it,” Legolas said quietly. “Perhaps it has deeds left to perform.”

“Perhaps,” Gildor said with a slight smile. “When shall we be about it then?”

“Sooner rather than later,” Elladan answered. “Tonight, if we are ready.”

“We are,” Legolas answered. 

“How shall we approach?”

“I say we walk right up and break down the door,” Gimli answered, handing a cup of wine to Gildor. “No sense in knocking when we’re there to declare open war.”

Elladan also accepted a cup from Gimli. “I would have the captain and his men follow hard upon our arrival. We will need the assistance, as Bora Shir will meet us with murder if he has his way.”

Elrohir nodded. “Aye. He expects to kill us all except Legolas, then use him as ransom to demand the unconditional withdrawal of all of the king’s soldiers from the city. Once that is achieved, he will continue to hold Legolas until the king kneels at his feet.”

“Well, he is in for a rude awakening,” Gildor said. “Perhaps his arrogance will be his downfall.”

“It is a poorly conceived plan,” Legolas said. “He clearly doesn’t know the nature of Elves if he thinks this will work. I cannot be forced to remain in my body against my will. Unless…”

“Unless?” Gimli asked.

“Unless he possesses some dark art, but I thought those ways faded with the fall of the Dark Lord.”

“Some still know the ways, though they are less powerful now that his darkness is gone,” Gildor answered. He looked at Legolas. “Perhaps he is not as arrogant as I thought.”

“I do not fear him,” Legolas said.

“Nor shall you,” Gildor answered. “His plan will not succeed.” He stepped forward and placed his hand on Legolas’ shoulder. “I shall defend you as I once defended your father. He will die by my hand before he can harm even the smallest hair upon your head.”

Legolas smiled at Gildor. 

Elladan looked at his twin. “Let us take a walk, shall we?”

Elrohir nodded and bumped Gimli with his hand. “Come on. Bring the wine.” 

Gimli frowned in confusion but followed the twins out of the tomb.

Legolas and Gildor looked at one another for a long moment and neither spoke. Gildor reached out slowly and gently moved an errant hair from Legolas’s face. “I think I understand now,” he said quietly.

“Understand what?” Legolas asked.

“Why the Lady commanded me to stay away.”

“Why?”

“Look in my eyes. What do you feel?”

“I do not recognize it,” Legolas answered softly. “I trust you even though we just met, and I do not easily trust.”

“I do see your father in you, and perhaps that is why this takes me so quickly. Yet, I know you are not him, nor would I have you be him.” He cocked his head. “May I touch you?”

“Yes,” Legolas answered.

Gildor brushed the back of his hand along Legolas’s cheek. It was an incredibly intimate gesture. “I will not say that I have not been lonely all of these years.”

It was difficult for Legolas to believe that one as beautiful as Gildor would be lacking in companionship.

“As have I.”

“You shoulder the burden of leadership. That makes one lonely.”

“It does.”

“I see the pain in your heart. You know your friends are dying soon.”

“I do.”

“You will seek solace in Aman when they pass, but not before.”

Legolas nodded.

“I will stay with you. Wait with you. Protect you, as I protected your father.”

“You need not—”

“Let me decide what it is that I need, Legolas Thranduilion.”

“What do you need?” Legolas asked softly.

“This,” Gildor answered, then he leaned forward and kissed Legolas on the mouth.

It was brief, but it stirred emotions in Legolas that he thought he would never know. In all his years, he had never taken a lover, though many had sought to fulfill that role. He had never met the one that stirred those feelings in him, until now.

His eyes remained closed after their lips parted. He hovered in the space were Gildor had just been, breathing in his scent, feeling his presence just inches away. It was strange, these feelings he had for one who had such history with his father. It could have been Thranduil who stood where he stood now, lingering in the warm aftermath of a kiss shared with Gildor. But it wasn’t. His father had fallen in love with an elf maiden, and despite the fact that she was gone from this world; he would see her again, when he finally sailed home.

“You think of your father,” Gildor said.

“I do,” Legolas said as he slowly opened his eyes. Gildor was close, so close that it was almost difficult to focus. He could feel the warmth coming from Gildor’s body and sweet breath that fanned his face. “I think that it could have easily been him that shares this with you now.”

“But then he would not have found the one he was meant to be with, and you would not be here. This is how it is supposed to be. This is what she saw, why she kept me away.”

“Then I am in her debt,” Legolas said, gazing into Gildor’s deep blue eyes.

“As am I,” Gildor said in a deep whisper.

Gildor leaned in, placing his hands on Legolas’ shoulders. As Legolas stepped forward slightly, bringing their bodies into contact, Gildor’s hands slid from Legolas’ shoulders into his hair, cupping his ears as he guided Legolas’s mouth back to his own. 

Legolas brushed his lips against Gildor’s and murmured his name against his mouth. As Gildor pressed his mouth to Legolas’s, he slid his tongue into the Sinda’s mouth. Legolas placed his hands on Gildor’s waist, pulling him closer, clasping his form tightly.

Legolas offered himself to Gildor, awash in his scent, in his taste, in his soft moans and strong embrace. Legolas opened his mouth wider, drawing the Noldo in, as he moaned into the kiss. He arched into him, sliding his hands up Gildor’s long back, grasping the backs of his shoulders and pulling him closer.

As they parted once more, Gildor said in a deep, husky voice, “I would know you, Legolas, but not here. Not like this.”

Legolas nodded with his eyes closed. Gildor spoke wisely. The tomb of fallen warriors was no place to experience bodily love for the first time. He wanted to know this before he faced his fate. If he were to fall, or worse, at Bora Shir’s hand, he would know Gildor’s love first. 

“Where? Where can we go?” 

“I know a place, it is private and quiet.” He pressed his forehead against Legolas’s. “Come.”

Legolas followed Gildor out of the tomb and into the fading light of day.


	6. Battle and Redemption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The companions face their nemesis and do their duty. Old friends are reunited and time marches on.

Legolas closed his eyes as his tunic slipped from his shoulders. 

“Are you certain that this is the time? That this is what you want?” His voice was confident, sure, but he knew deep in his heart that nothing was certain, that he could indeed lose Legolas just as quickly as finding him. 

“Yes,” Legolas answered. “If my time is to come to an end, then I would know this, know you, before it does.”

Gildor nodded. “Where you go, I shall follow, always,” Gildor said, and then he kissed Legolas. He took the Sinda in his arms and laid him upon a soft bed of grass.

Legolas smiled as he slid his hands over Gildor’s bare back. “For that, I am lucky.”

Gildor kissed his newfound lover, thoroughly exploring his mouth as his hands made slow perusal of the prince’s body. Legolas’ soft moans, his deep whispers were heaven to hear, all of Gildor’s loneliness fading; years of solitary wandering and regret falling away as he gave himself to the son of his long-lost friend.

Their coupling was brief, as was necessary given what they must do that night. Brief as it was, Legolas found it to be exactly what he needed. It gave him the strength to do what he must. They lingered for a short while, lying naked in one another’s arms before resigning themselves to what must come next.

They dressed and made their way back to their encampment.

* * * *

Gimli snored loudly and Elladan shook his head, tucking one of Elrohir’s braids behind his ear before threading his fingers through his twin’s heavy locks. 

Elrohir leaned back against Elladan’s chest, resting between his brother’s long legs. He wished that circumstances were such that he could make love to Elladan before they faced down a hoard of criminals, but things were what they were. This moment of closeness, if not quiet, was the best they’d get. Just being held by his brother was a rich reward. He never felt so at peace as he did in Elladan’s arms. His eyes drifted closed as he was lulled into reverie by the warm embrace of his brother.

Elladan heard footsteps on the path and gently woke Elrohir, who grumbled as he moved away to his own bedroll. When Legolas and Gildor entered the tomb, Elladan smiled knowingly. While outwardly one would never know what the two were just up to, Elladan could see the change in both Gildor and Legolas’s eyes. It appeared he no longer had to worry about the prince finding a mate.

“It is time,” Legolas said, as he moved to wake Gimli. “Come, friend,” he said as he gave the dwarf a gentle shake. “Let us rid this place of the filth of Bora Shir.”

Gimli snorted as he woke, but quickly gained his feet and grasped his ax. 

The twins both donned their battle armor as Legolas strapped on his quiver and Gildor armed himself with both bow and sword. They left the tomb as they found it. They knew they would not return.

* * * *

They entered a dilapidated stone courtyard. Goats and pigs roamed freely. Women forced into sexual service bathed in a ruined fountain, and all around men lay drunk or under the thrall of opium.

“They make it easy for us,” one man said from the shadows in a gravelly voice.

Another spat tobacco upon the ground as he stepped into the open and agreed. “That is good of them, to bring their pretty little heads to our block.”

“Who are you calling pretty?” Gimli growled. In a movement that belied his age, he removed his ax from beneath his cloak and buried it in the chest of the man. The women screamed and clutched at their clothing as they ran from the courtyard. The animals squealed and scattered as the sharp ring of steel against steel echoed in the darkness.

Legolas drew his bow and began firing on those who approached from the stairs above. Gildor drew the ancient sword and it glowed bright silver in the moonlight. The men were bold in their numbers, but they still found pause when they were met with the full fury of warrior elves.

They poured from every nook and doorway like ants overrunning a picnic. Every turn found another blade, or spear. They were quickly surrounded, though they held their own. Legolas heard shouts from outside the compound walls. The captain’s guards had arrived and were attacking from the perimeter. They were under orders to give no quarter.

Despite their efforts to remain together, the companions were eventually separated. Four set upon Gildor at once. Attacked from behind as he fought off one of the larger men, he was grabbed and disarmed. He growled in pain as his arm twisted and snapped behind him, the man’s foul breath filling his nostrils. He could not breathe; each ragged breath sent fire tearing through his arm and shoulder and he could taste blood on his tongue from where he had been struck in the face. They were too many too willing to die for this Bora Shir. 

“Legolas,” he whispered hoarsely, and he reached out into the darkness toward what he saw. 

His beloved was held from behind, a rusty blade to his throat. Legolas’ beautiful face was marred with grime and blood. Gildor saw Elladan, awesome in his fury, disembowel a man and move on to the next without so much as a pause, as he fought to get to his friend. 

Elrohir, knelt in the courtyard, his sword laying tip down in the muck, his blood flowing red through the fingers of his hand that was pressed to his side, onto the ground as the color drained from his flesh. 

‘Not like this,’ Gildor thought, ‘not here in this dark and bloody place.’

“Put down your weapons,” a deep voice snarled. Bora Shir stepped into the open. “Put them down and this one will live. We would leave one to tell the tale.”

Elladan glanced from the defiant Legolas to his wounded brother.

“Do not listen to him, they will kill us all. Kill them!” Legolas shouted.

“There is no place that you can hide, no place too foul or dark that I will not follow. You will never have what you seek, and you will beg me for death before I am finished,” Gildor shouted to Bora Shir. “I will kill you, your children, your children’s children, I will haunt your blood until the end of time.” One of the men holding him struck him across the face.

Bora Shir laughed then looked at his prize, defiant even in his defeat. “I know you,” he growled. “You are the pet elf of the usurper Elessar.”

“He is no usurper. He is Aragorn, Son of Arathorn, Heir to Isildur and the rightful King of Gondor and Arnor,” Legolas answered, his gaze narrowed in anger. “And I am Legolas son of Thranduil, Prince of the Woodland Realm, Member of the Fellowship of the Ring, and the most deadly pet you will ever meet.”

“Not so deadly now, are you?” Bora Shir mocked. “Arrogant of you to think that you could march through my door and defeat me so easily. But then you and your kind have always thought yourselves better than us. Look at your elf-friends now; they are not so fearsome. Even the dwarf has been defeated.”

Legolas looked down to find Gimli lying face down in the muck. The boot of one of Bora Shir’s men on his back. “You will die for that,” he growled.

“No, you will watch them die slowly and painfully first. One by one, starting with that one there,” he pointed to Gildor. 

“You know nothing of our kind,” Legolas said.

“I know more than you think,” Bora Shir answered. He blew a fine powder into Legolas’s face. “I know the old ways, the old magic. How do you think I have kept an entire city in thrall?”

Legolas coughed and his knees buckled. Bora Shir laughed.

“Your spirit is now bound to your body and cannot leave, and I shall use this on all of your friends so that I can be sure to take my pleasure in their torture. No matter what I do to them or to you, no matter how you yearn for the release of death, it will not come. You will watch your friends be tortured and murdered, watch your king beg on his hands and knees for your life and the life of his wife and son. You will watch this king and his son be murdered and his queen defiled. Then, and only then, will I release you.”

Legolas growled and struggled against his captor, but he could feel weakness seeping into this bones.

A loud explosion rocked the ground and the sound of a hundred men and horses filled the air. Bora Shir shouted to his men to uncover the source. The gate that had been barred behind Legolas and his companions when they entered burst open. Elladan quickly drew his bow and fired, striking the man that held the blade to Legolas’s throat between the eyes.

It was over in an instant, though the minutes preceding it had felt like an eternity. Gildor rushed toward Legolas, clutching his broken arm to his chest, holding his sword aloft with the other. 

Legolas turned, retrieving his blades from the man who once held him and plunged them in Bora Shir’s chest. 

“You are but a poor excuse for a man,” Legolas growled, thrusting them deeper with the last of his strength. “I have killed thousands of your ilk.” He smiled cruelly at the dying man. “But then, you already knew that.”

“This is not the end,” Bora Shir sputtered, blood bubbling at the corners of his mouth. “There will be others.”

“And they will die, just as you do now,” Legolas said. 

Elladan reached Elrohir, who managed to grind out through gritted teeth that he was all right. “Liar,” Elladan said as he removed his cloak and pressed it against Elrohir’s side. A full regiment of The White Company rode through the gate as he attended to his brother.

“Elessar sent them,” Elladan said, nodding to Bergil as the captain dismounted. “I guess he decided we needed help after all.”

Bora Shir’s men quickly threw down their arms and surrendered and the courtyard was soon under the control of honest men once again.

“Are you alright?” Gildor asked as he reached Legolas.

“Gimli…” Legolas whispered. He moved to the staircase when his knees buckled.

“Legolas!” Gildor shouted and caught his lover with his good arm.

“It is dark magic,” Legolas whispered hoarsely. “In the pouch, strapped to his side.” He pointed toward Bora Shir.

Gildor retrieved the pouch and tucked it into his belt. “I must get you to Elladan.”

“Gimli…” Legolas heard the dwarf cough and spit. “Gimli!”

“I’m alright, Laddy,” Gimli said wiping the muck from his face. “Just a bump on the head, no more.” 

“I thought you were dead,” Legolas said weakly.

Gimli frowned. “Is he hurt?” he asked Gildor, concern plain on his face.

“Physically, no,” Gildor said. “Though I must get him to a healer.” He placed his good arm around Legolas’s waist as his lover clung to his shoulders.

“Let me help.” Gimli took Gildor’s sword and Legolas’s weapons and followed them down the stair.

As they reached Elladan they found Elrohir being laid on a stretcher. 

“How fares your brother?” Gildor asked.

“He will heal,” Elladan said wearily. 

“How fare you?” Gildor asked again, grasping Elladan’s face and turning it from side to side. 

“They are only minor wounds, which is more than I can say for you. Your arm is broken.”

“Legolas needs your help more than I,” Gildor said. He handed the pouch to Elladan. “Bora Shir used this on him to bind his spirit to his body.”

Elladan nodded. “I know this potion. It can be reversed. Come, let us leave this place to Bergil and his men and find a place for me to do my work.”

* * * *

It was the fifth day after their assault on Bora Shir’s compound. The sun shown brightly and the gulls soared overhead, their lonely call haunting Legolas as it always did. At times, he hated the birds for the way they called to him, tearing him in two. But they only did what was in their nature.

He thought then about men and their nature. Bora Shir had spoken true before he died. There would be others; there would always be darkness in this land as well as light. He could only pray that those living now and those to come would always have the strength to fight it.

The potion that Bora Shir used on him was gone, purged from his body and he was restored to the Legolas that he had always been. Something he would never forget was the depth to which men could sink. He would not forget the darkness in Bora Shir’s heart, the hatred and malice he bore to all good men. Only leaving this world would soothe that dark and empty mark left on his spirit.

He heard soft footsteps and he turned and smiled at his lover. Gildor’s arm was nearly healed. He only wore a sling now. Gildor sat down beside him, placing his good arm around his shoulders.

“Listening to the gulls?” Gildor asked.

“Yes,” Legolas said quietly. “It won’t be long now, before I heed their call. You will come with me?” he asked.

“Of course,” Gildor said. “My place is by your side.”

“I will ask Gimli if he wishes to come, though I must make it clear that he cannot return to Middle Earth.”

“He will go. He loves you nearly as much as I,” Gildor said. He pressed a kiss to his lover’s temple. “There is someone here to see you.”

“Who?”

“I know not. I was asked to come bring you to the great hall.”

Legolas nodded and rose. Gildor remained seated. “Are you not coming?”

“While I was not told who is here, I suspect that I know.”

“My father.”

“Yes.”

“Come with me, Gildor. You two must reunite.”

“Now is not the time. Now is the time for you to be alone with him.” Gildor smiled. “Go on. We will speak soon enough.”

Legolas reluctantly left his lover alone, gazing at the White Tree.

* * * *

Aragorn shifted uncomfortably under Thranduil’s piercing gaze. The Sindar King had always unnerved him, even when he had been in the company of Gandalf. 

“You have done well for yourself,” Thranduil said. “Your kingdom thrives under your rule –no doubt the wisdom of your beauteous queen is to be credited.”

Arwen smiled and bowed her head. Thranduil bowed in return, covering his heart with his hand. “I am blessed to be graced by the light of the Evenstar before I leave Middle Earth,” Thranduil said.

He cast a quick glance around him, noting the dumbstruck gazes of the members of Aragorn’s court. “Your people have never seen one so old, it seems,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching into a grin briefly.

“They have not seen one so regal, or so wise, my lord,” Arwen said.

“You flatter me, my lady,” Thranduil said, “but I’ll accept the compliment nonetheless.”

Arwen smiled warmly. She liked this mischievous Sinda.

“Adar?”

Thranduil turned to see his son enter the chamber. “Greenleaf,” he said, holding out his arms.

Legolas approached swiftly, embracing his father in the middle of the throne room.

“Count yourself lucky, Elessar, that my son returns unscathed. Otherwise, there would be trouble indeed.”

Eldarion bristled at the lighthearted threat, and Aragorn placed his hand on his son’s arm, speaking quietly. “I would have said the same, had our places been reversed. It is the love a father bears for a son.”

“I am fine, Adar,” Legolas said.

Thranduil placed his hands on the sides of Legolas’s head. “Thank the Valar for that,” he said softly.

Legolas took his father’s hand. “Come, I want to show you something.” He turned to Aragorn, “May we have your leave, my lord?”

“Of course,” Aragorn said, bowing his head to Thranduil as the king departed his throne room with Legolas.

* * * *

Thranduil stopped in his tracks, pulling Legolas to an abrupt stop as they entered the courtyard. “Greenleaf…”

“He fought to protect me, Ada. He would have given his life; indeed, he nearly did.” Legolas tugged on his father’s hand. “It is time. You two have been separated long enough.”

Gildor turned to see Thranduil looking at him as if he’d seen a ghost. He bowed low as Thranduil and Legolas approached.

“I had heard you had been seen in Eriador,” Thranduil said. “I would have thought you would have sailed with your Lady long ago.”

“I begged her leave to stay,” Gildor said quietly, his head still bowed.

“You need not bow to me, Gildor Inglorion. I am not your king.”

“You are my friend. At least, I hope you still are. I still hold only the greatest love for you in that regard.”

“You love me so much that you left and did not return.”

“I could not. I—”

“You obeyed her and left me and my people to flee to the north with the darkness nipping at our heels,” Thranduil said, hurt tainting his voice.

“Adar—”

“Legolas, you know nothing of this. Though I imagine you have heard his side.” He looked back at Gildor. “You were my friend. I trusted you. I needed you, and you were not there.”

Gildor felt tears sting his eyes. Thranduil was as beautiful as he remembered, more so if that were possible. The pain in his friend’s eyes and voice was almost more than he could bear.”

“Had he returned—”

“Legolas, no,” Gildor chided.

Legolas continued, undeterred. “Had he returned you two might have become lovers; you never would have met mother; I never would have been born.”

Thranduil looked at his son in shock. “How come you to know this?” He looked at Gildor. “You told him of how you felt when you could not tell me?”

“The Lady Galadriel prophesied it; it is why she forbade his return and she sent him west.” Legolas moved to stand beside Gildor. “Now that we have met, her prophesy is complete.” He took Gildor’s hand. “We are in love, Ada. We wish to bond.”

Thranduil looked at Gildor. “You loved me, and now you love my son?”

“I still love you as I did then. I suspected that the love might grow and change, but it was never given the chance.” He looked deep into Thranduil’s eyes. “You met the one you were meant to be with; you fell in love, you sired a son – a son that has given you more joy than any fleeting moments we might have shared. Tell me that you wish things had been different.”

Thranduil looked at them both. “I do not. I would change nothing. Idril and Legolas are my life. Had it not been for my son, I would have not survived her death.”

“And you will be reunited with her when you sail,” Gildor said quietly. “Legolas is the one I am meant to be with, my lady saw that all those years ago. All is how it should be.”

“Except that you are my friend, and I have missed you these many years,” Thranduil said. “You are like a brother to me, Gildor.”

Gildor smiled as his eyes welled with tears. “I have longed to hear that, my friend,” he said, then stepped forward into Thranduil’s open arms.

Legolas smiled as he felt a tear trace down his cheek.

“I do love you, Gildor Inglorion. But, if you hurt my son—”

“There is no torment too great,” Gildor finished with a smile.

“You know me well, friend,” Thranduil said.

“I do.”

Thranduil reached out for Legolas and drew him into the embrace. “I give you both my blessing,” he said. “I can think of none so worthy of the love of my son.”

“Thank you, Ada,” Legolas whispered into his father’s ear.

Thranduil smiled and squeezed them both tightly.

* * * *

“This is your last chance,” Legolas said, sliding the small boat into the water at the mouth of the river Anduin.

“Stop worrying so,” Gimli grumbled, tossing his small pack into the boat. “I told you my mind is made up.”

Legolas smiled. “I would be lying if I said I wasn’t glad you are coming with me.”

Gimli grinned. “Aye, the journey would be boring without me.”

“Thanks for that,” Gildor teased.

“Well, I didn’t mean . . . what I meant to say was…”

“Yes, yes,” Gildor said with a grin. “Ever the diplomat.”

Legolas looked to the north. He could see the walls of the White City in the distance. “We are all that is left,” he said quietly.

“All things must come to an end,” Gimli said, looking up at his friend. “I know you miss him. So do I.”

“It is hard to know I shall never see him again.”

“Aye, Laddy. I know what you mean.”

“My love, it is time,” Gildor said quietly.

Legolas nodded.

“Do you think the brothers will follow?” Gimli asked as he climbed into the boat.

“I hope so,” Legolas said as he pushed the boat into the water.

Gildor hoisted the sail as Legolas took the keel. “You will see your father soon,” he said.

Legolas smiled. “And my mother.”

Gildor smiled and nodded. “Yes, and your mother.” He looked up at the gulls that circled overhead. “It is a good day to sail.”

Gimli popped the cork of a flagon of wine. “Thirsty?” he asked.

Legolas laughed and nodded, accepting the cup as the boat sailed into the open sea.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2013 My Slashy Valentine Fic Exchange. Prompt: A spy trip to Harad. Something with action, a narrow escape, and some nice father/son interaction between Legolas and Thranduil. While not strictly what the prompt asks for, I hope it is close enough and it pleases. Title from the Foo Fighters’ song “Still.”


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